Nightmares
by poetrygrrl39
Summary: This story takes place 1 year after my previous Xander and Buffy story, Dust to Dust. I recommend you read that one first, or this one might not make much sense. Love to hear comments and reviews! Continues in Death Watch.
1. Chapter 1

Xander woke up screaming.

Launching himself out of bed, he looked around wildly. Nothing. There was nothing there. The house was silent. Buffy was still on patrol; Dawn was sleeping over at Kit's house. He clicked on the bedside light to be sure. Empty room.

Gasping for breath, he sat down on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. Ever since Mexico, his nightmares had left him terrified. Most of them happened early in the night, at least early by Buffy patrol standards. They had agreed that he would go to bed "at a reasonable hour" and she would wake him up when she got back from dusting whatever there was to dust. That way, they had time together.

Together. He snorted. Be honest, Xander, he told himself. That way, they had time to have sex. Which had become just about the sum of their relationship. He got up early to get to the job site. She got up late for her carefully scheduled afternoon classes. He picked Dawn up from school and gave her dinner. She came home from class, changed into hunting gear, and went out on patrol. She'd wake him up around 2 a.m., they'd have sex, she'd go to sleep.

"This has got to change," he said. His hands were still shaking when he took them away from his face. If he was just able to patrol with her; but she wouldn't let him. She claimed he was too valuable to her, too precious.

"More like too fucking useless." His voice sounded loud in the empty room.

The nightmares were all the same. Xander gets attacked, Buffy fights bad thing, Buffy dies an excruciating slow and painful death in Xander's arms. The sad thing was, they could come true at any time. According to Giles, most Slayers didn't make their 20th birthdays. The oldest Slayer on record was 25, for God's sake. Buffy was 22 now. How much longer would he even have her?

If she was going to die, he couldn't be sitting in a bedroom with his head in his hands. He would be there with her.

Causing it.

Mexico had shown what a liability he was. He could still remember the smells of the Acapulco hospital where she had lain near death for two days, receiving transfusions. A vampire-free honeymoon, Giles had promised when he gave them the tickets at the bridal shower. He had researched it, it would be perfect.

Bullshit.

Half-tanked on margaritas, they had literally stumbled into a group of vamps attacking a bunch of teenage girls. Buffy had done amazing things with a few pieces of a broken mop.

Until one had grabbed Xander.

He ran his hand over the scars on his neck, where the vampire had fed on him. Hanging on to consciousness by a thread, he had called her name. And opened her up to being attacked from behind when she turned.

They had drained Buffy to the point of death.

And it was his fault.

It was no consolation to know that he had managed to dust the three remaining vamps himself, all while bleeding at the neck like a stuck pig. And that he got her to the hospital in time.

He twisted his gold wedding band around his finger.

Had he really thought this through? he wondered to himself for the millionth time since the wedding two months ago. He loved Buffy. Loved her so completely that his interest in other women's bodies had all but vanished. Even Anya hadn't been able to do that.

But was love enough? And what would happen when she died – permanently? How would he go on living? Knowing he would never again hold her, touch her, feel her hair against his shoulder, her body pressed to his….

He grinned wryly. Sitting here recovering from a nightmare that had driven him screaming out of bed, and just thinking about Buffy's body had given him a hard on.

"You may not be getting any younger, but I'm not sure you're getting any older, either," he told himself.

"I can't just sit here. Not any more." He got out of bed and pulled on the jeans he had dropped on the floor earlier in the evening, throwing a T-shirt on over his head. He stuffed his feet in his steel toed construction boots, the nearest thing at hand. Collecting some stakes, a cross, and a very large ax, he thudded down the stairs.

Buffy was patrolling the cemetery on the south side of town tonight. Only blocks away. He would walk. It might help clear his head.

He heard them before he saw them. Buffy's voice, laughing. Then another voice. A man's voice. Xander felt as if his legs had turned to lead, but he forced himself forward. Maybe it was just Giles. Maybe he had come to help.

But he knew that ripple in Buffy's voice. He knew it wasn't Giles who was bending over her, laughing with her, face inches from her face. It was him. It was Angel.


	2. Chapter 2

Turn around, Xander, he told himself. Turn around and go back home. Pretend you never saw them.

But he didn't, he couldn't. His breath quickened as he moved forward slowly.

"Something breathing out there. Something human," Angel said, sniffing the air. His head came up, dark eyes turning unerringly toward Xander. "Nice ax, Xander."

"Xander?" Buffy said. Her voice was surprised. Surprised and not all together pleased, Xander noticed. "What are you doing out here? I thought you were at home."

"I'm sure you did," he managed. He was fighting down the urge to hit Angel with the axe, split him in two, take off his head. But when he killed Spike, he had a reason. Now he didn't. Unless pure blind jealousy counted.

Angel's eyes were laughing at him over Buffy's shoulder. Did you think you could hold the Slayer? they asked him. Did you think a boy like you would be enough for her?

"Is something wrong at home? Is Dawn…?"

Xander moved his eyes back to Buffy. "She's at Kit's. Everything is fine. I came to lend you a hand. But I see you already have one."

Buffy glanced casually over her shoulder at Angel. "Oh, Angel came up from L.A. with some information for me. We just got to talking. Remember against the mayor…?"

"Come home, Buffy," Xander interrupted her. His hand tightened on the ax when Angel put his hand on her shoulder. He knew his face was flushed, knew Angel could tell. He hoped that it was too dark for Buffy to notice.

"Xander, you'll make me think you're not glad to see me," Angel said, sliding his hand down Buffy's arm. She seemed unconscious of it. Or maybe she was used to it.

"Xander, honey, Angel doesn't get into town that often," Buffy said. "Why don't we all go back home…."

"Why doesn't he take his hands off of you instead?" Xander barked, gesturing toward them with the ax. It came closer to them than he had intended.

Buffy looked at the ax with some alarm. Angel dropped his hand from Buffy's arm and took a step back from her, no longer grinning.

"Xander, stop it. What's going on with you? Are you jealous?" Buffy asked.

"Right in one, Buffy," Angel said. "Either that, or your precious hubby has gone off the deep end."

"Shut up, you creep!" Xander shouted. He pointed the ax at Angel.

"You might like to know, Xander, though it pains me to the core to admit it, that your little bride was just regaling me with tales of your wonderfulness," Angel said. He actually sounded sincere. "Since forever. A vampire brass band could have marched up on us while she was going on." Angel rolled his eyes.

Xander looked at Buffy, the ax dropping to his side. Her eyes were full of tears.

"Oh, God, Buffy, I'm sorry," he said. His head dropped and he carefully studied his shoes, trying to hide his own tears. "I just feel so helpless, sitting at home, waiting for you. And since Mexico. And now _him_. I'm so sorry."

Buffy's hand cupped under his chin, forcing him to look at her.

"I love you, Xander Harris. I belong to you, Buffy Summers-Harris, Vampire Slayer, college student, whatever else I am, I'm yours," she said.

"Oh yech," Angel said behind her.

"Shut up Angel," they both said. They kissed, gently at first, then passionately.

"Stop that, or I may empty the contents of my undead stomach all over the two of you," Angel demanded.

Buffy giggled, still pressed against Xander, who felt excitement beginning to smolder in his belly, and below that as well.

"Seriously, this is more horror than I've ever been….OOF."

Buffy spun to see Angel landing on the ground with a large, ugly demon on top of him. It looked like a spider crossed with a bird. But considerably uglier. It was clawing at Angel's face, which had gone all vampy as he struggled with the creature.

Xander tossed Buffy the ax as she ran toward Angel. As if in slow motion, Xander saw the creature throw Angel into a tombstone and charge Buffy. Damn it was fast. Buffy sank the ax into its chest and rolled away, but it raked its talons across her back. She screamed and fell.

Xander then did one of the stupider things he had ever done, including stepping in front of the bullet from Warren Means gun.

"Hey, stupid!" he yelled at the monster. Ax still embedded in its chest, it turned toward him, away from Buffy's prone body. One chance at this, Xander thought. He pulled a stake out of his pocket and leapt at the demon, burying the stake in its eye and throwing all his weight against the ax in its chest.

Not a great plan, he realized, when it seized him by the neck. His feet lifted off the ground. Oh, shit, he thought, stars dancing before his eyes.

He tried to kick at the ax and failed, then managed to get one hand around the slimy, gore coated haft and twisted it. The demon had to release his neck to grab at his hand, damn near tearing it off at the wrist to get him to let go of the haft. Xander screamed in pain. The demon dropped him to the ground and turned back toward the Slayer. Who was gone. Xander blinked. Where the Hell was she? And where was Angel?

The creature roared, dragging the ax loose and then scrabbling one hand at the stake. It turned back toward Xander, the only victim left. It raised the ax and Xander tried to scramble away, but it was too fast.

Suddenly, its head jerked back and around with a sickening crack, and it fell to the ground. Buffy stood over it, bruised, battered, but still standing. Angel was a step behind her, his face bleeding from multiple gashes. Xander felt at his throat with his good hand, then looked down at his other. It was still attached, but blood was pouring down it.

"Quite a team," he heard Angel say. He looked up to see the vampire standing over him, one hand out. He grasped it, and Angel pulled him to his feet, then stepped back so Buffy could throw herself into his arms.

"Ow!" they said together.


	3. Chapter 3

The clock on the mantle read 5:20 when Buffy and Xander finally got home. Some of the gouges on her back had required stitches, and Xander's hand had been stitched back together and wrapped up until it looked like he had a football on the end of his arm. The doctor had wanted to keep them, but they insisted on going home.

No one at Sunnydale Memorial had believed they were attacked by a large wild dog. But then again, Xander thought, they didn't want to know what had really happened, either.

Giles had come to the hospital to drive them home. He dropped them at the door silently, without even an admonition to get some rest. Xander was grateful. He and Buffy needed to talk. Angel had slipped away after helping them stagger to the hospital.

Silently, they climbed the stairs to their room. Once it had been Joyce's, then Tara and Willow's. When the witches had moved back into the dorm, it became theirs.

They sat down on the bed, next to each other, but not touching.

"How's your arm?" Buffy asked, not looking up from her study of the floor.

"Hurts. How's your back?" Xander asked. He was studying the ceiling.

"Hurts. But Slayer healing is kicking in, I think." There was a long silence. "Why'd you come out tonight?"

"Ever since Mexico, you haven't wanted me to patrol with you. I know what happened there; I know what I liability I am," Xander said. He raised his wrapped arm. "Just more proof, I guess."

Buffy was staring at him now, instead of the floor.

"But I also know that someday….someday I may lose you. Slayers don't live long, Buffy," he said. His voice broke. "If I'm with you, maybe I can help you beat the odds. Maybe you can be the first Slayer to see her kids grow up, to see grandkids."

"Xander. Xander, I don't know what to say. You're not a liability. You probably saved me tonight, just like you saved me in Mexico," Buffy said. She took his uninjured hand.

"Yeah, and you've saved me a million times more," Xander said. He still refused to look at her, refused to relax his hand into hers.

"I didn't know we were counting," she said tartly. "Maybe we should make a chart, do you think? A bar chart, of who saved who more. We could put Willow on there, and Giles, and Tara, and see who comes out on top.

"Xander, I haven't wanted you to patrol with me because I can't bear to see you hurt," she said quietly. She ducked her head to look into his face, grabbing his chin when he tried to look away. "You said that Slayers don't live long. You're right. I'm selfish. I want to keep you alive for as long as I live. Whether that's days, or months, or years. I want to know you're here for me when I'm out there."

Xander looked into her eyes. "But don't you see, Buffy? I can't be here waiting for you, not knowing if you're coming back. Because if you die out there and I could have done anything to prevent it, I'll die too. And I can't stand the only time we have together being sex at 2 a.m."

Buffy's eyes filled with tears.

"God, Buffy, I don't want to hurt you," he said. Carefully, he wrapped her in his uninjured arm, avoiding the bandages on her back.

"I know you don't," she murmured into his chest.

"We'll make a deal then, huh? I patrol with you."

She shrugged, then grunted when the movement reminded her of her flayed back.

"Is that a yes or a no?" Xander demanded.

She pulled back from his chest. "It's an 'I don't know,' Xander, because I don't."

"You know as well as I do that what we're doing now isn't working," he said.

"You're right. But I'm not sure patrolling together is the answer."

"Then what is, Buffy? Tell me what is?" His voice was anguished, and he knew it.

"I don't know, Xander. But we will figure this out. I swear we will. We are forever." She threw her arms around him and he stroked her hair gently.

"Forever is a long time, Buffy," he murmured into her hair. A very long time, he thought to himself. They sat together on the bed, holding each other, as the sun came up and life went on in the world outside their room.


End file.
